


The Oak Tree

by vina_writes



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Animagus Draco Malfoy, Banter, Cat Draco Malfoy, Fluff, Getting Together, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Humor, Kissing, M/M, cuteness?, idk it made me smile
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-26 22:54:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30113280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vina_writes/pseuds/vina_writes
Summary: Draco Malfoy has a propensity for climbing trees. It was bound to get him in trouble someday.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 16
Kudos: 194





	The Oak Tree

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aceveria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aceveria/gifts), [OTPshipper98](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OTPshipper98/gifts).



> Thank you oh thank you [Phe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhenomenalAsterisk/pseuds/PhenomenalAsterisk) for betaing!!
> 
> This is 100% based on an [aceveria](https://aceveria-art.tumblr.com/) "doodle" (it was a whole ass Mona Lisa) and [rockmarina's](https://rockmarina.tumblr.com/) hot take on it

At the edges of the Great Lake was an oak tree. 

Harry was familiar with this particular tree because its thick trunk curved just enough at the roots to comfortably cradle his back. The grass had grown long and soft there, and the bark was rubbed smooth by hundreds of long-gone students. When the wind blew over the water it rustled the leaves just so— not jarringly, just a peaceful whisper— and when the sun shone through the canopy it speckled his knees with golden spots and made him feel just a little bit otherworldly. 

Harry discovered the tree three weeks into their Eighth Year. He was wandering the edges of the Lake, mulling over his unfinished (unless Hermione was asking, in which case he’d written it days ago) Potions essay, when he passed through a grove of saplings that had crept almost to the water’s edge. The undergrowth was itchy and tangled, and no doubt the main reason most students didn’t venture this far anymore.

When he finally pushed through the shrubbery, however, Harry found himself at the edge of a sunlit clearing. Greenery hid the castle from view, and the Lake stretched out before him, long and still and golden. And there, in the center of it all, was the oak tree.

It was one of those gorgeous old-growth giants, with sturdy sweeping boughs and a healthy crown of red-orange leaves. Harry starred at it for several long minutes, and when he finally stepped up and pressed his hand to the rough bark, he wondered for the first time if magic wasn’t inherently earth-bound.

It became his private refuge outside of the castle. On snowy winter days Harry brought Hermione’s jar of flames with him and cast a bubble of warming and shielding charms around the base of the tree. When the weather eventually grew pleasant he would spread his robes on the grass and watch the leaves flutter above his head. It was a brilliant spot for studying, and when McGonagall posed the Animagus challenge to the graduating class, became an excellent place to meditate.

But while the tree made life (and schoolwork) more bearable on the whole, it seemed its wondrous powers ended there. Which is why Harry found himself sitting cross-legged beneath it on a bright Saturday morning, eyes shut tight and fists clenched with irritation. Meditation, as it turned out, was a load of horse shit, and Harry was five seconds away from hunting Hermione down and shoving his copy of  _ Animate Your Animagus  _ where the sun didn’t shine.

Something bounced off the top of his head. Cracking one eye open, Harry peeked at the piece of bark now laying on the grass in front of him. He closed his eyes again and breathed in deeply through his nose.

A small twig struck him on the ear this time. He ignored it. 

Clear the mind. That’s all he needed to do— clear his mind. It shouldn’t be this difficult. He had thoughts. He liked to think things. All he needed to do was  _ stop _ thinking them, and instead think about something that wasn’t related to thinking.

“Bollocks,” Harry cursed quietly, realizing he’d just spent several minutes intently thinking about not thinking. 

An acorn hit the top of his head. Harry briefly rubbed the sore spot. 

He was about to resume his non-meditative meditation when a shower of leaves rained down on him. Harry cursed again and jumped to his feet, yanking at the back of his shirt to get at the leaves that had slid down his collar. A snort met his ears.

He looked up in time to catch someone tossing another handful of leaves at him. 

Harry brushed them off impatiently, staring up in dismay at his perfectly lovely tree, which now inexplicably housed one hundred percent too much Draco Malfoy.

“How’s the weather down there?” Malfoy called from his perch. And perched he was— right in the curve between a thicker bough and the trunk, his arm slung over a branch as if he was resting in an armchair.

“Rainy,” Harry muttered. Then, louder— “this is my tree, you berk.”

“I certainly don’t see you sitting in it.”

Harry scowled up at him in response. “That’s because I wasn’t stupid enough to climb it. How’d you even get up there?”

That part was confusing. There were very few lower branches, and certainly none strong enough to support even Malfoy’s skimpy weight. Harry glanced around for a broom, but both of Malfoy’s hands were in plain sight and there wasn’t any good place for him a stash a whole broomstick.

“That’s for me to know and you to find out,” Malfoy said smugly. His tone would have sparked a noteworthy fight a year ago, but now it sent something worryingly reminiscent of butterflies through Harry’s stomach. 

“Lovely hidey hole you’ve got here, Potter,” Malfoy remarked then. 

Harry crossed his arms. “It was, but it’s got a pointy git in it now.”

“Really?” Malfoy made a big show of looking around. “All I see is your speccy self.” Harry laughed despite himself. Draco smiled back.

“How’d you find me?” Harry asked. “I didn’t leave the Map out, did I?”

He’d done that once, late over the Christmas Hols. It was how they’d first started spending time together— Malfoy found it in their shared dorm and refused to return it without an explanation, then refused to leave Harry alone without a thorough demonstration of its assets. They both ended up in detention for their troubles: Firewhiskey and Wheezes didn’t mix well. 

“I just followed the scent of poor hygiene and melted chocolate,” Draco said. “Honestly, Potter, were you a squirrel in a past life? I live in constant fear of your food-stuffed pockets.”

Harry didn’t bother reminding him of all the times Draco had stolen sweets out of those very pockets. 

“Come off it, you didn’t ‘sniff me out’,” he replied. “Did you follow me?”

Draco shrugged and eyed his fingernails. “Something like that. What were you up to? You looked like you were concentrating on laying a particularly large egg.”

“Fuck you, I was meditating,” Harry laughed. His neck was beginning to hurt looking up at that angle, so he sat down again facing the tree and leaned back on his hands.

“Meditating on what? Birth?”

“Transfiguration.” Harry pinched a blade of grass between his fingers. 

Malfoy started, surprised. “For your Animagus form? Merlin, Harry, don’t you know everyone’s given that up already?”

“You haven’t,” Harry shot back. “Neither has Hermione.”

“That’s because I’m a genius, and she’s insane.”

Harry shrugged again. “I thought it’d be neat, you know? My dad was an Animagus. I thought I could do something like this— follow in his footsteps and whatnot.” He pushed a hand under his glasses to rub at the bridge of his nose. “Nevermind. It’s daft and fucking difficult.”

Draco pursed his lips. He had that look on his face— the one he assumed when he finally felt like saying something kind.

“You’re very determined,” he finally said, “and freakishly powerful. You’re just a little…  _ busy _ , inside. If anyone in our year can do it— deserves to do it— it should be you. You just need to sort yourself out before you try.”

Harry starred up at him in surprise. Draco’s advice was always sage and considerate, but often sprinkled with sarcasm. He’d never tire of being surprised by Draco’s unexpected ability to care for those he deemed worthy of his affection. The possibility that he might be in that group made Harry’s breath come quicker.

“How  _ did _ you get up there?” Harry asked, trying to change the subject before he revealed something he’d regret. “You haven’t got a broom. Did you climb?” Draco’s cheeks turned a sudden and vivid shade of red. An intriguing idea occurred to Harry. “Draco, can you get down?”

“Fuck you, Potter, I can do what I want.”

“Oh my god, you’re stuck.”

“I am not!” Draco sputtered. He leaned forward in indignation, then thought better of it and quickly grabbed onto his branch again. 

“You’re stuck in that tree,” Harry said with vindictive glee. “You’re stuck and you can’t get down—”

“—see if I ever help you again, Potter, I mean it—”

“—and you’re talking to me because you don’t want to admit it!”

“Friendship revoked,” Draco said with narrowed eyes. “For now and for always.”

“Oh, don’t be like that,” Harry pouted. “Come on, I’ll help you get down. Just tell me how you got up there in the first place and we can figure something out.”

Draco stared at him for a couple more seconds. “You’re not very good at keeping secrets.”

That was insulting. Harry was excellent at keeping secrets. He’d managed to keep magic a secret from himself for the first eleven years of his life. 

“One, untrue. And two, the fact remains that you’re stuck in that tree and I’m your best hope of getting out. Unless you have your wand with you, that is.” If it was possible, Draco turned redder. “Right, I’m your  _ only _ hope then.”

Draco sniffed. “Fine, but you aren’t allowed to laugh, or I shall never speak to you again.”

“I promise.”

Draco eyed him in suspicion. Never letting go of his iron grip on his branch, he scrunched up his nose—

And disappeared. Or rather, transformed— into the fluffiest white cat Harry had ever seen.

“You prat, you managed it!” Harry accused. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Rather than reply, Draco tucked his bushy tail around himself and started licking one dainty paw. “Is it because you’re a cat that gets stuck in trees?”

That got a reaction. “Excuse you, Potter,” Draco snapped as soon as he transformed back. “I am a Siberian Forest Cat, which is a highly revered natural breed and the ancestor to most domesticated longhaired felines the world over, so I’ll thank you to critique me after you’ve turned yourself into a  _ worm _ , which is certainly what you’re bound to be.”

“Are you done?” Harry asked. Draco glared at him. “Good. How are we going to get you down?”

“That’s for you to figure out.”

“You’re the one who’s stuck.”

“Yes, well, you’ve insulted me. You’ve lost the right to my input.”

Harry sighed and rubbed at his nose again. He’d left his own wand in his dorm, hoping to be completely free of distractions, and he didn’t fancy getting a teacher or leaving Draco long enough to fetch his broom.

“I could catch you,” he finally suggested.

“You could what?” Draco sputtered. 

“Catch you. You’re not that far up. If you transformed again, you’d probably be pretty light.”

Draco seemed to think about it.

“If you drop me—”

“—yes, yes, all the threats. Now do you want to try?”

Draco bit his lip. Studied the distance to the ground, then Harry’s arms. He seemed to make a split-second decision, turning himself back into a cat before he started creeping towards the edge of the branch. 

Harry stood up to meet him and held out his arms, hoping Draco’s aim was better than his tree-selecting skills. He snickered when Draco bobbed his little head up and down, gouging the distance. 

The mass of white fur came hurtling at him much faster than he’d anticipated, and though Harry did catch him, it sent them tumbling to the ground, Draco’s feline weight knocking the air out of his chest temporarily.

“Good aim,” Harry wheezed. 

The shape above him changed, long legs settling on either side of his hips and warm hands pressing into his shoulders. 

“Thanks,” Draco said. Harry waved a hand at him in acknowledgement. 

They sat that way for a while, Harry getting his breath back and Draco watching him. Although his cheeks were pinking again, he didn’t move off of Harry, instead settling down a bit more firmly on top of him. He’d really chosen his position well— the warmth of him was sinking into Harry in places he was rather hoping Draco wouldn’t notice.

No such luck, of course. Draco shifted a bit and a surprised look flashed over his face.

“Um,” he said, but still didn’t move.

“That’s your fault,” Harry helpfully supplied. 

“How? I’m only sitting on you.”

“You could get up.”

Draco didn’t. His eyes flicked down to Harry’s lips. “Well,” he finally breathed, “this is a little awkward.”

“I prefer the term ‘convenient’,” Harry replied. Draco quirked an eyebrow at him, and Harry decided then and there that if Draco was unhappy with their position, he probably would have moved a long time ago. So Harry pushed himself up on one elbow and pressed a kiss to Draco’s flushed cheek before either of them lost their nerve.

“Oh,” Draco jumped slightly. “That’s— oh.”

“Alright?”

“Yes, yes.”

Harry smiled then, the knot of anxiety in his chest easing into something warm and hopeful. 

“How about this?” he asked, kissing the tip of Draco’s chin. 

“Mm, yes.”

“And… this?” Harry paused with his lips brushing the corner of Draco’s mouth. They both sighed when Draco leaned forward. He threaded his fingers through Harry’s hair and guided his head, staying still as Harry kissed him once, twice, then once more. 

“I should climb trees more often,” Draco whispered. Harry deepened the kiss briefly, just enough to feel Draco melt into him, before he pulled away.

“You mean you should get stuck in them?”

“Oh, hush.”

Draco was an impatient kisser, Harry soon discovered. He seemed to enjoy being teased just as much as he liked putting an end to it, opening his mouth so Harry had no choice but to lick into it, carding his fingers through Harry’s hair and tilting his head just so.

“I like this,” he admitted against Harry’s jaw when they took a moment to breath each other in.

“I like you.”

“Well, we know  _ that _ ,” Draco said impishly. Harry pinched him.

Above them, the leaves rustled in the sunlight, and an acorn fell down to get lost in the grass.

  
  



End file.
